


Muffin Top

by werewolfwords



Series: Never Quite Free [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Baking, Belly Kink, Canon Disabled Character, Domestic Fluff, Dubiously Consensual Medical Treatment, Eating Disorders, Finger Sucking, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Memory Loss, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Oral Sex, Past non-consensual body modification, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:46:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfwords/pseuds/werewolfwords
Summary: During the ten years Newt spent under the sway of the Precursors, it wasn't just his mind that changed. His body changed too.





	1. Chapter 1

On a good day, Newt’s memories of the past twelve years were a confusing swirl of color and light, everything edged in an electric shade of blue. He could easily remember how it felt – The dizzying high of being beyond human need. He hadn’t felt hungry or tired. Nothing had hurt. He had felt invincible. But he couldn’t easily remember anything specific, especially when pressed. He couldn’t remember the first time he’d drifted with Alice or why. He couldn’t remember almost anything he had done or said during his time at Shao Industries except for that moment he’d suddenly realized his hands were wrapped tightly around Hermann’s neck. Even as he’d watched his hands choke the life out of Hermann, he’d felt Hermann’s fingers softly, comfortingly stroke his hands. For that singular moment, he had known where he was and what he was doing, and he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. All he could do was apologize, because he wasn’t strong enough to stop it. It was one of the only nightmares he remembered after waking.

Bad days happened when Newt pushed himself, or when he was pushed by others to answer questions about what had happened. Where he had been at a specific time. What he had done on a particular date. When he was questioned, first by the Pan-Pacific Defense Force, then by lawyers, and finally by a revolving cast of medical experts, he’d feel a stabbing pain behind his eyes that would last for hours. His tongue felt like a lead weight. His throat closed. He would literally go blind. Once, early on in his separation from Alice, during a particularly intense interrogation, he’d even had what looked like a grand mal seizure. After nearly two years, he still felt nervous sweat prickle at the back of his neck if he even thought about what, exactly, Alice was for too long. None of the experts could seem to agree about the physiological and psychological mechanisms for Newt’s responses, only that they were real. Scan after scan showed dangerous spikes in neurological activity that medication couldn’t seem to touch.

So they let him go, with a few strings attached. He had a microchip inserted under his skin, so his location and vital signs could be tracked at all times. He had to meet weekly, in person, with a Pan-Pacific Defense Force neuropsychiatrist. And of course, he was completely forbidden from conducting any work or research related to jaeger technology or the kaiju.

In a previous life, Newt would have raged against being constantly monitored and any limits on his personal freedom. Now, in a strange way, it made Newt feel safer, knowing he was being watched. If he lost control again, someone would know. Someone would stop him. Even if he didn’t remember doing it, he’d killed thousands of people, including Mako. Mako had been his friend. He would have killed millions more. He had done all of it, even if he didn’t remember doing it. With some encouragement from Hermann, Newt had his own weekly sessions with a civilian therapist, to try to work through the guilt. Newt was skeptical that it was possible. Hell, he was skeptical that it was even right to try.

Hermann retired from the Pan-Pacific Defense Force as soon as Newt was released. After twenty years of literally saving the world, Hermann had a generous pension and excellent health benefits. He helped Newt sell the barely remembered apartment in Shanghai for a newly constructed house outside of Lai Chi Wo, a rural village in Hong Kong, near the ocean. Moving in together wasn’t a requirement of Newt’s probation, but Newt’s medical team all agreed it was good for him to be close to a supportive friend (and far away from any weaponizable technology and densely populated urban centers). Staples like flour, butter, and sugary American breakfast cereal were delivered monthly by drone. Hermann and Newt bought fish, meat, and produce from local farmers. The neuropsychiatrist, therapist, and various doctors travelled to visit Newt or appointments were conducted through holographic chats. Every few months, Newt would travel to the Hong Kong Shatterdome for scans from machinery too large and sophisticated to move.

They each had their own bedrooms and their own offices, although after the first six months of living together, Newt hardly ever slept in his bedroom. One of the clearest memories of his new life was the first time he’d kissed Hermann. They were both a little drunk on local moonshine, huddled together under a blanket in the living room. They had been up late toasting Hermann’s book deal. It was enough money for them to live comfortably in Lai Chi Wo indefinitely. Newt remembered acting on impulse as he pressed his mouth to Hermann’s for only a second. It had felt natural. It had felt right.

“I don’t… I don’t remember if we did this before,” Newt admitted.

“We never did,” Hermann replied slowly, eyes wide as he touched his lips where Newt’s lips had been only moments before.

“Oh.”

Newt remembered looking into his lap, feeling shame bubble up inside him, until Hermann rested one of his hands on Newt’s knee, tentatively.

“We should have,” Hermann said, with a surprising amount of confidence. “And we can bloody well do whatever we want now.”

Then, Hermann had kissed Newt back. Newt felt oddly grateful that they hadn’t been romantically involved before Alice. He could remember his first kiss with Hermann, every kiss with Hermann, and the electric jolt of Hermann’s hand on Newt’s cock whenever he liked. It was easy and never hurt.

Hermann worked on his book. He would print out journal articles for Newt that he’d cleared with the neuropsychiatrist and Newt’s therapist. Newt spent most of his time reading fiction, since there were fewer restrictions on what he was allowed, and he could choose for himself. He bought a screen and projector to watch movies. Sometimes he used it to show movies to local kids from the village, which was too small to have a movie theater. Newt picked up the local languages, Cantonese and Hakka, quickly. Newt was reasonably certain he had always been good at learning new languages.

The biggest problem with Newt’s new life was that he seemed unable to enjoy anything from his previous life. Halfway through the 1954 Godzilla movie, Newt reached up to wipe one of his eyes and suddenly realized that he had been crying. He couldn’t help thinking about all of the people dying as Godzilla tore a path through Tokyo, even though he knew they weren’t real.

“Newt, are you alright?” Hermann asked, pausing the movie.  

Newt’s voice sounded small and far away. “Sometimes I wonder if our lives are more valuable than theirs. You know what I mean?”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t,” Hermann said, his voice tight. Hermann quickly turned the projector off.

Dr. Ross, Newt’s most recent PPDC neuropsychiatrist, contacted them the next morning about a brief spike in usual brain activity, first detected at 2200 hours Hong Kong Time. She was a young, petite woman with straw-colored hair, pulled back into a severe bun. The holographic projector rendered her sitting in an extra chair at their kitchen table. Hermann poured bowls of sugary American breakfast cereal for himself and Newt. Newt didn't seem to notice. Instead, Newt looked with glassy, vacant eyes at the wall behind Dr. Ross's holographic head. 

"Dr. Geiszler, you will need to come for some tests today. A boat has already been sent and will meet you at 0900 hours. 

Hermann snorted. “If the readings were that concerning, you would have called last night,” he pointed out, gesturing sharply with his cereal spoon. 

“You don’t have to come, Dr. Gottlieb,” Dr. Ross responded, icily. “Additionally, I would like to remind you and Dr. Geiszler that this isn’t a choice.”

“Call me Newt. Only my mother calls me doctor,” Newt mumbled automatically. He hadn't touched his cereal.

"I'll come. I always come," Hermann informed Dr. Ross softly. Under the table, he placed his free hand over Newt's and gave him a supportive squeeze. 

They left the village by boat less than an hour later, headed for the Hong Kong Shatterdome.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermann couldn’t protect Newt. He knew, on an objective level, that he had no power here. His presence at Newt’s visits to the shatterdome medical laboratory were allowed. He was tolerated. He had no actual right to be with Newt through the process. When he was asked to leave the room so Dr. Ross or the laboratory staff could speak with Newt alone, it was a courtesy. The polite illusion of choice was provided for everyone’s comfort.

Newt placidly submitted himself to every test and indignity that was asked of him. He ignored the way that younger staff gawked at him, whispered about him. A decade ago, Hermann couldn’t imagine Newt sitting still and tolerating this sort of treatment for a single second. Once, after a particularly grueling day of tests, Hermann had asked Newt why he didn’t push back. Just the previous day, Newt had called Hermann a fascist for insisting he eat steamed broccoli. Newt’s docile behavior when visiting doctors unnerved him.

“Because I deserve it,” Newt had said simply.

Hermann hadn’t known what to say, so he had said nothing. He just pressed his body impossibly closer to Newt’s, burying his face in Newt’s unruly hair.

Newt sat, naked except for his boxer shorts, on an exam table. He had been poked and prodded and covered in electrodes. Contrast was injected. Scans and samples were taken of every conceivable variety.

Dr. Ross entered the room with her head buried in a tablet device.

“Well Doc, what’s it look like? Am I dangerous?” Newt kicked his legs back and forth, but there was no impatience in it. There simply were no circumstances in which Newt could sit still.

Dr. Ross’s mouth was a thin line that almost tilted into a frown. Initially, she’d insisted that Newt call her Dr. Ross, but she’d eventually given up. Instead of addressing Newt, she turned to Hermann.

“I want you to keep track of what activities Dr. Geiszler is engaging in the next time this sort of spike occurs,” she told him simply. “Also, he’s been gaining weight. Please ensure Dr. Geiszler is engaging in adequate diet and exercise.”

Hermann smiled poisonously.

“Why don’t you tell Newt that himself? He is sitting right here.”

Newt put his hand on Hermann’s shoulder, inserting himself between the two.

“I’m fine. He’s fine. Thanks, Doc. I will definitely do everything you just said.”

Dr. Ross glanced at Newt.

“Fine. You’re cleared. You can go.”

Newt and Hermann sat in silence for most of the ride back to Lai Chi Wo.

“God, I hate that woman,” Hermann finally said, bitterly.

“Doc’s really not that bad. Her voice kind of reminds me of you, actually. A little bit.”

“Hardly,” Hermann snorted. “The woman is Welsh.”

“Whatever, it all sounds the same to me,” Newt sniped, but there was no heat in his words.

The next day, Hermann took out the box of sugary American breakfast cereal.

“Are you sure I should be eating that?” Newt asked, uncertainly. “Doc said I needed to lose weight.”

“What do you want to have for breakfast, then?” Hermann asked.

“I dunno. Uh, maybe some egg whites?”

Hermann looked perplexed.

“You used to say egg whites were, and I quote, for ‘stupid rich white people who hate fun.”

“Yeah, well. I used to say a lot of things.”

That shut Hermann up. He knew better than to compare Newt to how he had been before everything had happened. He changed the subject.  

“Fine. What shall I do with the yolks, then?” Hermann asked in a voice that could probably curdle milk.

Newt shrugged.

  
“I don’t want to throw them out. It’s wasteful,” Hermann sniffed. “I’m putting them in the refrigerator. We can figure out what to do with them later.”

“I mean, eggs are basically just chicken periods. They’re already pretty much waste,” Newt pointed out.

 Hermann wrinkled his nose.

“You make your breakfast sound absolutely scrumptious.”

Hermann served Newt his egg whites and then poured himself a bowl of sugary American cereal.

“Somebody has to finish the box,” Hermann shrugged. Newt watched Hermann take each bite with jealous intensity.

After they finished, Newt loudly pushed his chair away from the kitchen table.

“OK, going for a walk. See ya later!”

Newt was out the door in a flash. To Hermann’s chagrin, he’d had left his dirty dishes behind.

Hermann began tidying up. Technically, he should be working on his book, but he wasn’t in much of a writing mood. After he had procrastinated by thoroughly cleaning and organizing almost every room in the house. He briefly considered whether he should go into Newt’s office. The last time he’d tried to straighten up Newt’s papers, they’d had a shouting match. Hermann carefully opened the door and sniffed the air, inquisitively. Satisfied that there were no dirty dishes or rotting specimens, he closed the door and decided against the intrusion. Once, and only once, Newt had brought home a dead civet cat he’d found beside the road during one of his frequent wandering sessions. The stench, even after disposing of the bloody thing, had been so terrible that even Newt had eventually capitulated and admitted that bringing it home had been a mistake.

It was already 10 AM, and Hermann had run out of things he could reasonably do to delay writing. Then he remembered the egg yolks. Pleased with himself, Hermann settled onto the couch and began flipping through recipes on his tablet. He thought of the ingredients they had on hand, and settled on a recipe for banana pudding bars. The squat, red bananas in the kitchen were on the edge of spoiling, so Hermann felt doubly pleased with himself.

Newt came home before it began to get dark. He was fully clothed, soaking wet, and covered in seaweed.

“Do I even want to know?” Hermann sighed, dramatically. “I’ll get some towels. Under no circumstances are you step further than the doorway like that.”

“I think I found a new kind of seaweed,” Newt informed Hermann, excitedly. He pulled a green, slimy strand from behind his ear and squinted at it. “No wait, not this one. This is just regular old dwarf eelgrass. Which, incidentally, is incredibly fun to say.”

Newt had made a few mildly interesting discoveries in the mangrove forests and beaches surrounding their home, none of which had anything whatsoever to do with kaiju beyond environmental impact. Environmental impact was about as close as Newt was allowed to get.

Newt frowned, “wait, maybe it’s this one,” he said, pulling a strand off his shoulder before discarding it as well. It landed with a splat at his feet. “Guess I’ll just have to go back tomorrow.”

Hermann tried doing a breathing exercise. He tried counting to ten. Then, he tried counting to one hundred. Newt had stripped out of his clothes and was wiping down his grimy skin with one of the towels Hermann had given him.

Newt, unsurprisingly, had ignored Hermann’s directions and had already drifted away from the front door and towards the kitchen counter. At least he wasn’t dripping anymore, Hermann thought, consoling himself.

“Oh wow, Hermann, what are these? They smell awesome!”

“They’re banana pudding bars, but under no circumstances are you allowed to touch them until you wash your hands! God knows what kind of tropical bacteria you picked up traipsing about in the mud.”

Newt shot Hermann a sly look. “Guess you’ll just have to feed it to me, then.”

Hermann froze. He realized, suddenly, that Newt was entirely naked and that he was fully clothed. By all accounts, Hermann should be beyond disgusted by the grime and muck, but his cock took interest anyway, the traitor.

“Yes, I suppose I should. Strictly for sanitary purposes, of course,” Hermann replied in a cool voice. He picked up one of the bars from the tray.

“Under no circumstances are you to touch any part of me until you take a shower. Is that understood?” Hermann said, silkily.

“Yes sir,” Newt replied. He kept his hands loosely at his sides as Hermann brought the pudding bar to his mouth. Hermann had a brief, intrusive thought about crumbs that was quickly dispelled by the rapturous look on Newt’s face.

“Oh my God, Hermann. I’m not saying these are better than sex, because sex is awesome. But. Like. Definitely top five things I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Newt was babbling.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hermann corrected.

Newt swallowed. As he took another bite, his eyes slid closed and he moaned.

“No need to be theatrical,” Hermann murmured. Newt swallowed again.

“I’m not being theatrical, Hermann. They’re seriously that good.”

As Newt took the final bite, he took Hermann’s fingertips into his mouth, running his tongue carefully along each one.

“Gotta be careful of crumbs,” Newt said, wiggling his eyebrows. Hermann suppressed a laugh.

“I’m gonna go hop in the shower,” Newt informed Hermann, before practically sprinting toward the bathroom. A moment later, Hermann was standing in the kitchen, alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt struggles to process the ways the Precursors changed his body, and how his body has changed since he became himself again. Hermann lets Newt know exactly how much he loves every part of him.

As the weeks passed, Hermann discovered that he had a yen for baking. In many ways, it reminded him of his favorite chemistry labs in university, except he and Newt could eat the results. Hermann made dark German bread, like he and Newt had both eaten when they were children. He made cakes and pies of all sorts. On one particularly memorable occasion, after one of Newt’s papers about seaweed adaptation to the effects of kaiju contamination was accepted at a prestigious journal, Hermann made an elaborate three layer sponge cake, iced in buttercream, surrounded by wisps of spun sugar seaweed.

Unfortunately, Newt rarely seemed to eat much of Hermann’s creations. He always took a few polite bites, of course. Hermann saw the rapture in Newt’s face as he worked his tongue around the decadent pastries that Hermann churned out. Newt would stare with raw jealousy as Hermann finished the baked goods himself.

Hermann watched, worryingly, as Newt fell into an unusually spartan way of eating: Black coffee and egg whites for breakfast. Nothing for lunch – Newt always claimed he had gotten something in the village while he went on one of his walks, but Hermann knew that was a lie. Unless the nearby copse of glass mangroves had magically sprouted a sandwich shop, Newt simply wasn’t eating. Dinner metamorphosed into a tense standoff in which Hermann made what he knew to be all of Newt’s favorite foods, and then attempted to cajole Newt into eating them. Newt would take a few bites and then excuse himself to do something in his office. Late at night, long after Hermann had gone to sleep, Newt would crawl into bed, fully clothed, as far away from Hermann as it was possible to get without being on the floor or in another room.

After a month, Hermann had had enough.

“What is wrong with you!” Hermann snapped. He’d made sausage, spaetzel and green beans, a classic they’d both grown up loving. Newt had spent the past half hour cutting his food into increasingly smaller pieces and pushing those pieces around the plate. Very little of it seemed to make it into his mouth. Newt scowled and dropped his cutlery onto his plate with excessive force, his fork clanging loudly against the plate.  

“I mean, a lot of things are wrong with me Hermann. I tried to kill all life on this stupid planet. I have a microchip implanted in my neck just in case I try to do it again. I’m legally prohibited from doing anything world-changing or even remotely important. I tried to choke you to death that one time. You’re gonna need to be more specific.”

Hermann tried doing a breathing exercise. He tried counting to ten. He tried counting to a hundred. He made it to fifteen before he grabbed his cane, stood up, and started shouting.

"I know you haven't been eating. I'm crippled, Newton, not blind!" 

“Why do you even care if I eat? Why do you care about anything I do! Maybe you should have just let me kill myself drifting with that fucking kaiju brain the second time. Maybe you should have moved on with your life when I pretty much ignored you for ten years. When I was choking you to death, maybe you should have fought back!” Newt screamed, his pitch rising steadily.

“I’m concerned about you, Newton! I care about you! And as to all the other nonsense you’ve spewed, I am still here because, despite my better judgement, I love you, you stupid little man!”

“You love me?” Newt said in a small voice. His nose had started to run.

Hermann stood still, astonished.

“Of course I love you. Isn’t it obvious?”

Hermann limped over to Newt and gave him his handkerchief, just as Newt began to cry.

“Why do you love me? It makes no sense,” Newt mumbled, slightly muffled be Hermann’s handkerchief. He blew his nose loudly into it.

Hermann braced himself on Newt’s shoulder before bending down to kiss the top of Newt’s head.

“I love you because you are brilliant and brave. We saved the world together. You know me more intimately than anyone else ever has. I have seen every part of you, even the parts you don’t like, and I love those parts too. You infuriate me, and challenge me, and you never, ever give up.”

“Christ, Hermann, I think you just gave me diabetes,” Newt laughed wetly.

“Well, you asked for it,” Hermann replied curtly.

“I did ask for it.” Newt paused. His face was still red, but his tears had dried and his nose had stopped oozing.

“Can we go to bed? Would… Would that be OK? I know usually you like to get everything cleaned up first but…”

Hermann cut him off.

“I will go to bed with you right now, plates and food be damned, on one condition: We are going to discuss why you haven’t been eating properly.” Herman paused. “And if we get cockroaches from leaving the food out, you are, under no circumstances, to adopt any of them as pets.”

Newt gave Hermann a calculating look.

“You can to rinse off the plates and put them in the sink and I can adopt one cockroach. He will be kept in my office and you'll never have to look at him.”

"Fine," Hermann agreed. Newt ran up the stairs to the bedroom and Hermann kept to their bargain before following after. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann shows Newt just how much he loves the soft parts of Newt's body.

When Hermann came into the bedroom, Newt was sitting on the bed, fully clothed and staring at his hands in his lap.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Hermann said gently from the doorway. It had been weeks since they’d been intimate, but Hermann didn’t want to push. He remembered from the drift, all those years ago, that Newt’s first time, and the majority of his sexual experience, really, had not been particularly good. Sex had been less of a union and more of an acquiescence – Newt had been surprised that anybody could want him at all, so he’d simply gone along with it.

“No, I want to,” Newt said, lifting his head to look directly at Hermann. His eyes were still pink from crying. “I’m just… Nervous? I don’t know.”

Hermann braced himself before sitting down, as gently as he could, beside Newt. Their legs touched, but Hermann made no move to touch Newt beyond the steady pressure of sitting side-by-side.

“When… When I was with Alice, I felt beautiful and strong. Not like, mentally strong, obviously. But physically. I did cross fit and shit. I ran every morning before the sun came up. I didn’t feel hungry or tired or lost. The Pr...” Newt winced in pain before correcting himself, “Alice. Alice helped make me better,” Newt paused. “I mean, besides the whole trying to destroy the world thing.”

 “Do you really think that?” Hermann asked, frowning.

“Yes? No. I don’t know, OK?” Newt clutched his head in his hands. “Hurts thinking about it.”

Hermann set his cane down and began rubbing small, comforting circles into Newt’s lower back. Some of the tension began to bleed out of Newt’s body. After a few moments, Newt unexpected twisted to press his mouth against Hermann’s in a close-lipped kiss.

Hermann hesitated for a moment before kissing Newt back, softly. He then kissed down Newt’s neck, pausing to scrape his teeth against the place where Newt’s neck and shoulder met and where Newt’s tattoos began. Newt shuddered and pulled away for a moment to pull off his t-shirt. When Newt reached down to unbutton his jeans, however, Hermann gently grasped Newt’s hand.

“I have something in mind. Let me?” Hermann asked. Newt nodded and pulled his hand away from his fly.

“Lie down on the bed,” Hermann murmured as he quickly divested himself of his clothes. Hermann then crawled on top of Newt. Hermann couldn’t quite straddle Newt – His palsied leg simply didn’t bend that way. Instead, Hermann settled between Newt’s thighs and rested some of his weight against Newt’s chest and belly.

Hermann loved the soft parts of Newt’s body, although he couldn’t think of a way to say so that wouldn’t come out as at least mildly insulting. Perhaps a practical demonstration would better convey his thoughts on the matter.

“Put your hands behind your head, please,” Hermann instructed. Newt complied, but squirmed impatiently, letting out a low whine.

“Soon,” Hermann said, reassuringly stroking down Newt’s sides. When his hands got to Newt’s waist, he dug his fingers in to the soft flesh there. Newt inhaled sharply as Hermann pressed the hard length of his prick into one of Newt’s ample thighs.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” Hermann whispered into Newt’s ear, before he used his arms to push himself a little lower. He licked one of Newt’s nipples before taking it between his teeth. Newt hissed in pleasure.

“Please… Please, Hermann, can I touch you?” Newt asked as Hermann repeated the move on Newt’s other nipple.

“Soon,” Hermann promised, kissing down Hermann’s sternum. When he reached the curve of Newt’s belly over his jeans, Hermann kissed it reverently. Newt squirmed again, this time with some degree of discomfort. Hermann glanced towards Newt’s face.

“Is everything alright? We can stop if you need to,” Hermann asked carefully.

“No, s’alright,” Newt slurred. “Just tickles a little when you touch me like that. Maybe a little harder?”

Hermann nodded before carefully sucking some of the soft flesh into his mouth, pressing his teeth in, carefully, but not gently at all. Newt groaned.

“Yeah. Yeah like that. That’s good. Hermann, you’re so good.”

Hermann smiled inwardly, aware that he was probably going to leave a bruise. Whether it would be visible on Newt’s tattooed skin or not was an open question.

“Fuck, Hermann, buddy, that feels so good. You feel so good. But it’s getting really hard to hold my hands up here, you know?”

Newt waggled his eyebrows and fingers simultaneously. Hermann took the hint and undid Newt’s fly, pushing his hand in to stroke between the stiff denim and soft skin of Newt’s scrotum. Newt shuddered as Hermann pushed Newt’s jeans and underwear down just enough for Hermann to wrap his hands and mouth around Newt’s dick.

“Holy shit,” Newt cursed, looking down at Hermann with blown pupils. Hermann pulled his mouth from Newt’s dick with a lascivious pop.  

“You can touch me, if you want,” Hermann informed Newt

Newt quickly brought his hands down and loosely ran them through Hermann’s hair. Hermann got back to sucking, running his tongue under Newt’s foreskin, gently. Newt threw his head back at the sensation, accidentally cracking it against the headboard.

Hermann began to pull off, but Newt pulled at Hermann’s hair insistently.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” Newt pleaded.

In response, Hermann moved his hand away and took as much of Newt into his mouth as he could. Hermann drooled messily as the tip of his nose pressed into Newt’s pubic hair. He reached the hand that had previously been wrapped around Newt’s neck to rub the curve of Newt’s lower belly.

Newt’s eyes went wide and then closed tightly. “Holy shit, Hermann. Hermann, I’m going to come.”

Hermann moaned agreeably and the vibrations sent Newt plummeting over the edge as he shot down Hermann’s throat.

Hermann pulled off and coughed a few times, wiping streaks of come and drool off his face on Newt’s discarded t-shirt. He loved the fantasy of swallowing, but the reality was, as usual, more difficult and messy. Still, it was worth it to see the awed, sated expression on Newt’s face.

“Can I touch you? You said I could touch you and oh my God, I wanna touch you,” Newt mumbled. Hermann gracelessly rolled off Newt and onto his side as Newt turned to face him.

“Please,” Hermann said in a soft voice as Newt licked one of his hands and shoved it down Hermann’s y-fronts, stroking Hermann in a now-familiar rhythm. Hermann let out a soft “oh,” in response, burying his face in Newt’s shoulder.

“Want you to come on me,” Newt continued, whispering into Hermann’s ear.

Hermann let out another soft sound and did exactly that, striping Newt’s belly with a shudder.

Hermann and Newt both shifted onto their backs. Hermann opened his mouth to say something smug, before thinking better of it.

 _I bet Alice couldn’t do that_.

Instead, Hermann said, “I love you.”

Newt smiled and curled over to hold Hermann in his arms. Unfortunately, this meant that Hermann’s come was now all over Hermann. Hermann tensed.

“Oops. Uh. Would you believe I forgot?” Newt said sheepishly.

 “I entirely believe you forgot,” Hermann responded dryly. “I still love you.”

“Good. Otherwise this would be a pretty awkward situation.”

Newt held tightly on to Hermann, and despite the stickiness, Hermann hugged Newt just as tightly back.


End file.
